


Burning Stars

by Empy (Empyreus)



Category: Eastern Promises (2007)
Genre: Anger, Desire, Despair, Internalized Homophobia, Kneeling, M/M, Obedience, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1629221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empyreus/pseuds/Empy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They offered Nikolai stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galadriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/gifts).



> Written as a Yuletide Treat and as thanks for many things. :)
> 
> Written for Galadriel.

_They offered Nikolai stars._

Kirill has fire in his veins, anger and brandy and something poisonous uncurling slowly. Poison eating his words, turning them to dust and ashes and forcing him to act without words. He makes mistakes even then, oversteps the boundary when he wraps his arms around Nikolai. He holds on too tightly, gives away secrets even when silent because his body betrays him.

How he'd like to push Nikolai down onto his knees, onto the floor, to crawl. No. Not crawl. Just kneel there, like in prayer, before the stars on his knees take the right of command away from Kirill.

He'd agree to it, of course, without flinching, because all of Nikolai is like granite. Hard, grey, polished granite that you get no purchase on, no grip. He's the perfect _vor_ , because nothing fazes him, nothing makes him lose composure, and he is the bedrock that Kirill himself teeters on. He is what Kirill takes hold of.

There would be no questions, only the single nod and the softly murmured words he uses for everything. _Da, da, Kirill._ Like a prayer. The cigarette smoke mingling with the sharp scent of Nikolai's aftershave could double for incense. Incense to carry prayers, though no higher power would listen to a weak and godless vor, to a killer racked with perverse desires. To a queer.

Kirill's own stars burn where they nestle in the hollows of his shoulders. He wants Nikolai's hands to eclipse them, wants his fingers to trace each line. He wants so many impossible things. Might as well ask for the moon.

_He might as well ask for the moon and all the stars of heaven, but the only stars he wants are the ones wrought in black ink on the skin of the man he cannot have._


End file.
